<!DOCTYPE html>
<html>
<head>
<meta charset="UTF-8">
<title>In the Field of Cormallen by LeastExpected_Archivist</title>
<style type="text/css">

body { background-color: #ffffff; }
.CI {
text-align:center;
margin-top:0px;
margin-bottom:0px;
padding:0px;
}
.center   {text-align: center;}
.cover    {text-align: center;}
.full     {width: 100%; }
.quarter  {width: 25%; }
.smcap    {font-variant: small-caps;}
.u        {text-decoration: underline;}
.bold     {font-weight: bold;}
</style>
</head>
<body>
<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26511775">In the Field of Cormallen</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/LeastExpected_Archivist/pseuds/LeastExpected_Archivist'>LeastExpected_Archivist</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angst, M/M</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2002-02-04</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2002-02-04</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 03:08:53</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,078</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26511775</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/LeastExpected_Archivist/pseuds/LeastExpected_Archivist</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>By Shebakeen.</p><p>Aragorn tends his beloved Frodo's injuries after he is rescued from Mount Doom.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Aragorn | Estel/Frodo Baggins</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>Least Expected</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>In the Field of Cormallen</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Note from Amy Fortuna, the archivist: this story was originally archived at <a href="http://fanlore.org/wiki/Least_Expected">Least Expected</a>, which has been offline since 2002. To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in August 2017. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on the <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/collections/leastexpected/profile">Least Expected collection profile</a>.</p><p>Disclaimer: These characters aren't mine although I wish they were. All honour goes to the great Tolkien.<br/>
Feedback: Love it.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
The last remnants of the battle were forgotten as Aragorn gazed at the sky over Mount Doom. He prayed that Gandalf and the great eagles would not be too late. All his concentration was fixed on that distant point, no shouts of war reached his ears, as if he could force his eyes, by sheer will alone, to show him the sight he most desired to see. "Please Lady Elbereth, let Frodo live. Let Gandalf find him and Sam before it is too late," he whispered.

</p>
<p>
His men gathered around him as the news spread that the Ringbearer had succeeded in his quest. The dark power had been broken and even now the fortress of Barad Dur was crumbling and the fires of Mount Doom were consuming all the evils of that land. Their foes, now leaderless, turned on each other and destroyed themselves. But Aragorn would not rejoice, not yet.

</p>
<p>
"Legolas! I have need of your keen eyes, my friend. Where have you been?"

</p>
<p>
Legolas joined him and placed a hand comfortingly on his shoulder. "I have been helping Gimli take Pippin to the healer. Don't worry," he said, as Aragorn gave a start, "our young hobbit will be up and eating in no time. As for our other small friends, I hope..." 

</p>
<p>
He broke off abruptly and took a few faltering steps forward. His eyes strained towards the eastern sky. An expectant hush descended on the watchers, which seemed unnatural amidst the furore of the battle. Suddenly, Legolas gave a great shout. "I see them! The eagles come!"

</p>
<p>
Three giant, winged shapes were silhouetted against the horizon, moving swiftly towards the ranks of the army of Gondor. More and more men took up the cry as the great birds flew, swifter than arrows, to escape the dark and destruction that now spread out behind them.

</p>
<p>
Aragorn willed them on. Soon the eagles drew close enough that he could discern Gandalf's white clad figure mounted on the back of the leader. Just behind, clasped gently in the talons of the two trailing birds, were two tiny drooping figures. A rush of emotion swept through Aragorn's heart, making his breath catch in his chest.

</p>
<p>
"Stand back! Give them room to land there," he ordered. The throng of men moved back a pace and into the clearing, his pinions raising a cloud of blinding dust, swooped the king of eagles. 

</p>
<p>
Springing lightly from his back, Gandalf spotted Aragorn at the edge of the crowd and called out to him, "Quickly Aragorn, help me." The two remaining eagles were nearing now as the wizard and the king hurried forward to relieve them of their precious burdens. 

</p>
<p>
Hovering over them, the eagles gently lowered the unconscious hobbits. Sam was grasped gently by Gandalf while Frodo found a home in the outstretched, strong arms of Strider. 

</p>
<p>
Turning to face the eagles, Aragorn bowed as low as he was able while clasping Frodo's inert form. "Thrice have you lent your aid to this great endeavour, oh king of birds. The race of men will sing you songs of praise that soar to the heavens like the flight of your people, and you and your kind will always be welcome in my realm."

</p>
<p>
The great eagles bowed their noble heads in acknowledgment, yet said not a word. Turning his yellow eye towards Frodo, the avian king reverently touched a soft feather to his sleeping face. Then, all three rose in a mighty updraft of air and sailed away into the clouds.

</p>
<p>
"My lord," said Aragorn, turning to the Prince of Dol Amroth, "take charge of what remains of the battle. See that the wounded are tended and the prisoners secured. I will personally take care of the Ringbearer and his faithful companion."

</p>
<p>
Aragorn walked proudly towards his tent, Frodo cradled in his arms, Gandalf and Sam following. The circle of men parted silently before him and closed up behind. As they passed, warriors respectfully removed their helmets and gazed in wonder at the sight. Exhausted and even wounded men struggled to their feet to provide an honour guard as the Ringbearer was carried by. Some deferentially stretched out their hands striving for a fleeting touch of the hobbits, content to lay even a finger on the hem of their cloaks.

</p>
<p>
"Tend to Frodo first, Aragorn. His hand is sorely wounded and he is losing blood," said Gandalf.

</p>
<p>
Although Aragorn longed to see to Frodo his sense of duty and friendship towards the other hobbit made him hesitate to show favouritism. "Samwise is also hurt and has as much claim on my attention. He is no less in worth than his master," Aragorn replied.

</p>
<p>
"I would not suggest otherwise," Gandalf chided gently. "Indeed, when their tale is told I doubt not that our dear Sam will be revealed as being instrumental to the quest's success. Yet Frodo's need is more urgent now. Besides, we both know that Sam, were he awake, would insist his master was taken care of first."

</p>
<p>
Aragorn acknowledged this wryly.

</p>
<p>
"Don't worry, I will see to Sam," Gandalf said.

</p>
<p>
Reassured by this, Aragorn finally gave in to the desire of his heart and carried the still unconscious Frodo into the royal tent.
  
</p>
<p>
The flap of the tent swung closed behind them shutting out the noise of the camp. The light inside the tent was cool and dim, and Aragorn felt himself cocooned in a silent world where only the young hobbit existed for him.

</p>
<p>
He stood for a moment, simply gazing at the beloved face, the grime that covered it not able to obscure its unearthly beauty. With tentative fingers Aragorn traced the fragile features, now paler and more drawn than he remembered. Tears flooded his eyes at the suffering Frodo must have endured. 

</p>
<p>
A small moan from the hobbit in his arms made him recollect himself. "There will be time for tears later. For now, let us see to you, dearest Frodo."

</p>
<p>
Legolas had thoughtfully arranged for warm water to be delivered to the king's tent. Laying Frodo carefully on the bed, Aragorn poured the ewer of water into the bath and checked the temperature. Removing the last remaining leaves of athelas from his tunic he crushed them and swirled them into the water. The wholesome fragrance filled the tent and lifted his spirits.

</p>
<p>
With trembling fingers Aragorn began to gently remove Frodo's stained and tattered clothing. Forcing his mind not to dwell on the hobbit's nakedness he quickly stripped himself to the waist so as not to get his own clothes wet when he bathed the little one. He lifted Frodo into his arms and gave a gasp at the sudden feel of his bare skin against his naked chest. He fought a sudden urge to crush the small body against his own, to rub that soft skin against his own harder, lightly furred flesh.

</p>
<p>
He had never spoken to the young hobbit about his feelings, yet he was sure that Frodo could read the love in Aragorn's eyes. He remembered the first time he had laid eyes on Frodo, at the Prancing Pony. He had been intrigued by the courage and determination shown by such a small creature and his heart had filled with pity when he thought about the dangers that would beset the vulnerable, innocent hobbit. 

</p>
<p>
Admiration had turned to love when Frodo had been stabbed by the morgul blade and Aragorn was struck with intense fear by the possibility that he might lose Frodo. When he pledged his life to protect Frodo at the Council of Elrond, he silently also pledged his heart. At Amon Hen, when they had last parted, perhaps for all they knew to never meet again, Aragorn almost gave voice to his emotions. But, as always, something held him back. 

</p>
<p>
His destiny was to be king, to atone for his ancestor's folly, to reunite the nations of men, and to marry Arwen. Frodo had no place on this path. Not for the first time, Aragorn wished he could be a normal man, free to follow his heart, not bound by duty and honour.   

</p>
<p>
Coming back to the present, Aragorn noticed the naked hobbit was shivering slightly in the coolness of the tent. Mentally chastising himself, Aragorn lowered Frodo into the warm, fragrant water of the bath, one arm wrapped around Frodo's back supporting his head in the crook of an elbow. A soft sigh seemed to escape the hobbit's lips.

</p>
<p>
Taking up a clean cloth Aragorn began to gently wipe away the dirt that clung stubbornly to the hobbit. Uncorking a vial of scented liquid, he rubbed some into the matted, tangled curls of the hobbit's head and gently massaged his scalp. Leaning Frodo back into the water he carefully rinsed away the soap, ensuring it didn't come near the hobbit's eyes. For a moment he buried his face in the now clean curls and inhaled the scent of Frodo's hair.

</p>
<p>
Round and round the cloth swirled, over high angled cheekbones, over delicately pointed ears, over full rosy lips, gently over closed eyelids, then further and further down. Aragorn traced the fragile column of Frodo's throat, pausing to marvel at the strong pulse that beat there, confirming the miracle that his love yet lived despite the odds. Gliding over the slender arms, tracing a line from shoulders bruised from weeks of carrying a heavy pack down to the maimed hand, more and more of Frodo's flesh, pale as marble, was revealed to Aragorn's loving gaze. 

</p>
<p>
Lifting Frodo's hand to his lips, he kissed it, his tears falling like a healing balm on the wound that marred what otherwise was perfection. Gently he cleaned any foulness from the wound and checked it for infection. Finding none, he anointed it with ointment and bound it with clean cloths. Laying the injured hand aside so the bandages would not get wet, Aragorn continued with his ministrations.

</p>
<p>
His hands circled over Frodo's chest noting how the normal hobbit roundness had gone, stripped by weeks of cruel privation. The bones stood out starkly under skin so thin it was almost transparent. Whip marks glared like vivid red slashes across Frodo's back and sides making Aragorn purse his lips with barely controlled rage. 

</p>
<p>
High on Frodo's chest was a small mark, like a brand. It was some moments before Aragorn understood what it was. This was where the ring had nestled on its chain against Frodo's flesh, pouring its evil and malice into the tiny body, wearing it down, gouging into his tender heart. Bending, Aragorn placed his lips against that mark. His tongue snaked out to gently soothe the spot. 

</p>
<p>
Nuzzling against Frodo's chest, Aragorn could not resist turning his head slightly to grasp one soft pink nipple between his teeth. Worshipfully he encircled the nub with his lips, felt it harden under his flickering tongue. The feel of that beloved flesh in his warm mouth made him moan as he suckled on Frodo's nipple, trying to draw as much of the hobbit into his mouth as he could. 

</p>
<p>
Frodo stirred at his touch and Aragorn quickly looked up. His eyes were still closed.

</p>
<p>
Growing bolder, Aragorn continued his exploration of the pliant body beneath him. The cloth massaged the sturdy hobbit feet that had carried the Ringbearer so many weary miles, up the thin legs, their muscles now wasted by hunger and strenuous effort. His hand hesitated as he drew near the centre of the hobbit's body to the place where his eyes had constantly wandered. Lovingly, Aragorn's cloth covered hand grasped the hobbit's length, gently cleaning away the sweat and grime of hard travel. 

</p>
<p>
When all the dirt was gone and the cloth thrown aside, the man continued to stroke the hobbit's shaft which grew full and hard in his hand. Over and over he tugged at its length, marvelling at the feel of silken skin over steel. With a sudden explosion, the hobbit's slick warm seed spilled over Aragorn's hand. 

</p>
<p>
Aragorn raised his hand to his mouth intending to taste Frodo's essence when he glanced up at the hobbit's face. Two enormous, blue eyes looked back at him, their beauty enhanced by their look of desire.

</p>
<p>
Aragorn started, a blush fanning out across his handsome face. "Frodo, I'm sorry, I didn't mean..." He trailed off in embarrassed confusion.

</p>
<p>
A sweet smile lightened Frodo's ethereally beautiful features. "It's alright Aragorn." He glanced at the missing finger where the ring had been. "Everything's alright now."</p>
  </div></div>
</body>
</html>